Category Archives: 0409

Big Red Machine (skirted)

She could of course still summon him when needed, like during meditation. Not the meditation itself for the need but what usually came after, another afterthought of sorts, the byproduct of two souls being one. If she falls, he falls, so intertwined are their individual pieces by now. Which will inevitably happen: all things spring up and all things fall back, product of the clocks and the seasons. Always blue yellow blue yellow to go along with green red green red, if you will. A complete TILE is the only way to revolve in time. They had understood this ages ago, back when they were still kits, still in the box yet to be correctly assembled by the mother, the father. They’d tried once before, but left out some parts and the whole thing fell to Hell, a screw missing here, a joint missing there. But when they finally followed the instructions the way they were suppose to be: perfection. A girl and a boy both. Adam and Eve reborn. “I will call the female X,” the mother said, approved for such things. “And the boy: Z,” the father said, looking down on his own and then glancing over at what the wife had done, seeing it was good too. “We have done well Myrtle. My Myrtle Beech.” Sand was in his eye; he was dreaming but it was still real, just as X and Z, later Xia and Zimmy, were real. One could absorb the other if needed for protection. X could move up to Z and Z down to X. But given the circumstances of Constantynople and the arrangement at the top of the Kidd Tower, it had to be this way: Z to X. Mr. Babyface stares from his staring chair, understanding this. “Xilted,” he says, knowing it was behind him as well and no longer Zebrasil now two floors above in the alphabet. The Gods have spoken.

“Zebrasil,” he said, staring up through the transparent canopy of the bed and thinking of top vs. bottom and bottom vs. top. “Xilted,” she said in turn, pondering the same. There were degrees to it, well 3 that they could count in the current game. The 4th would represent the Null, the Void, the Absent; the return to home. Nothing to keep them apart. They were just on the surface still, first base yet to be encountered.  No sin in Cincinnati.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0409, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

ice cream dress

After donning her last remaining Flasherman’s outfit, she crossed with the good leg, force of habit. Her Boyfriend noticed.

“I strongly suggest you get the other one done to match the first. Else you’ll go around lopsided the rest of your life, see?” But that would mean going back.

Ruby Roo stared into the mirror at her one remaining good gam, wondering if she could do it. Her Husband still sat beyond the wall of spirals over there, savoring what he’d just seen (the jumping). Her Boyfriend over here was helping her adjust to the new, post-California, Nevada style life with a wooden leg covered all over with those same type of spirals. “You could say the war did it,” he suggested. “Both of them, in fact.”

SUDDENLY he was gone, along with the hubby, along with all the cool furniture of the place. Then the skybox residence as a whole disappeared; just winked out of existence. She fell fell fell from the sky. We’ve been here before…

Of course she didn’t die when landing from her almost 4000 meter drop, merely bounced a bit. Afterwards she dusted herself off, as was standard for Our Second Lyfe avatars undergoing such a thing, and looked around, spotting a skyscraper on a nearby parcel. She walked inside, explained her situation to a handy bartender named Marilyn. “I was with My Husband. I was with My Boyfriend. Now I’m not.”

“We’ll put you up for a while,” she said, and knew just where. She’d heard such Wall stories before.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0409, Omega, Ruby's Empire/Fishers Island, The Cross, The Straight, Wallytown/Fishers Island

00370409 (party 09)

They hadn’t met since college or perhaps high school. Perhaps both (variable realities). No, let’s go with college. Amos was 2 grades up from Edward, but they stayed in the same suite in the same dorm at New Hampshireville State Institute of Klubs. Actually let’s go with Crabwoo — Crabwoo University, commonly abbreviated Woo U. Woo Woo U. some say, because that particular institute specializes in the study of the weird and kooky, like the Loch Ness Mobster or the New Jerseyvania Devilburg Man. But it wasn’t all fantastical criminals. There were the saints as well, and Edward knew several, growing by the moment. All females of course. Amos knew one. His future wife. The late great Edith Pickey, always picking at her food after the others had long finished and thus her nickname for a name. Shelley would remind Sandman greatly of his former partner.

She spied him from the pool while Edward kept carousing with Penny and Sandy, drawing them closer and closer to the blows that would come later, with one black eye and one blue arm the result. “That up there on the balcony is the man who left the party,” she said to herself, staring up, almost meeting his eyes but not quite. “The one Edward called The Great Antagonist. Why?” She had to find out.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0409, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West

00360409

She was hoping beyond belief. “Tattoo parlor?” she tried, drawn in by the butterflies.

“Hair salon,” replied glowing pink haired Sep Felton, not seen in a while. Not since Wallytown, I believe.

“Any?…”

“Nah,” answered Sep to Shelley. “Too small (of a town),” she explained about the lack of such establishments. “Haven’t seen you around — figured you were a stranger.” She takes in her visitor. At first she thought: plain. Now she’s starting to reconsider. “Where…?”

“Morgans Gap,” Shelley said, anticipating Sep’s own question here. “Vacation — honeymoon, actually. Just bumming around the neighborhood.”

“Well, you’re a pretty fur piece down The Trunk to find this place (!).”

“Yeah, I guess. Got the wandering feet today.”

“Where’s the significant other?” Sep began to fantasize a relationship with the increasingly cute visitor. She couldn’t help herself.

Where *was* Shelley’s recently married hubby, if not just married? Their honeymoon had been postponed for a month because they had to find exactly the right spot to do it. Morgans Gap was the place no doubt. They were visiting a gallery in the area, heard about the Ant Castle on the mountain above the town, and the rest fell into place pretty quickly. Arthur Kill withdrew some saved money for the purpose out of the bank and handed it over to 3 1/2 star rated Hotel Higashiyama down on the beach of the town. They haven’t regretted it one moment. More role play tonight, Arthur promised. If she can get back before bedtime. She checks her online map. Dang. How did she get so far away?

“Well…” tried Sep — hoping beyond belief herself this time. “I have a spare room upstairs if you don’t think you can make it back tonight. Sun will be setting in about an hour. Just saying… trying to be hospitable. Us Marooners like to cultivate that reputation.” Which was true, although Sep knew she was trying to cultivate something else. Better end this post and check her history in the photo-novels.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0409, Corsica, Northwest

Tesseract Inn continued…

The dead will return to their graves, the bats will fly back to The Void, and the orange lights on the fir tree in the center of it all will be replaced by anything but as Halloween season shifts inevitably into Christmas. Shelley decides to bed down for the night on the comfy couch by the fire as the fog rolls in, another product of the lingering evil. The “Big Red Machine” being finished as far as she can take it, she shifts back to her standard tablet for more reading. Always 1 or 2 or 3 pages in at this time of night and she’s ready for sleep; can stash the tablet safely away beside the bed — or couch in this case — its main job accomplished. She likes to read about dreams anymore, but still has problems remembering her own. Society offers little in training for that, unfortunately, with the emphasize instead being placed on “out there”, or the manipulation of physical objects and the achievement of material goals. How much do you have in your bank account, Shelley? Not enough, society might answer. Focus your energy on investments, financial planning. But the dreams, she might protest in her mind. What about the *inner* wealth. No answer for that.

She’s spacing out instead of reading. Time to shut the eyes. She doesn’t have her special neck molding pillow but, oh well. Next time she’ll be sure to plan an intercontinental trip better; this one was rather impromptu in nature. Plus, well there are the shifts in time/location to deal with. The Cross, pheh. And now she’s trapped, in effect, in one of its quadrants, let’s say, as it divides the continent into 4 fairly equal sections, with one remaining unfinished — not the one she’s in, though, this Mountain land with its many shiny granite peaks and ridges. Must be the mica.

“Goodnight Spider!” she calls as she rolls over, using her hand as a makeshift pillow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0409, Mountain Lake, Omega, The Cross

Cable Isle

It was a pretty town for what it was. Perhaps was called Greentown at one time because of those nicely hued hills over there. Fake but fitting. Wheeler, donned in purple now as is her style in the current photo-novel, 34 in a series of infinity apparently, had to come back to see what chaos was wrought with the return of Arthur Kill, who hadn’t remained long in his long wooden coffin in the grave of the paltry cemetery on the south side of town, just behind Roberts and Franklin Investigators down there, immediately beside Johnson’s Junk Yard and Repair Shop to be more specific. Where he first showed up after he rose from the dead, I might suppose.

If he could have opened this darn, stuck gate first. “How do I get out of here?” he barked at Wheeler behind him, dressed as a witch in this earlier purple phase and oddly holding a mop instead of a broom while swinging on her swing after doing the deed.

“Have to go through the basement, silly,” she said. “Not that easy to raise the dead, you know. Can’t just walk through the front door and return to life. Just be glad you’re not down in that hot hot grave any longer.”

He turns. She points with the mop, the thing that did the deed in the first place. Sometimes silliness works best for more powerful magic, which was needed here. Basement it is, opening for opening.

Junk car enthusiast Ken and his repairman Bobby remain safe. For now.

Later :

“Car.”

“Jesus you scared the bejebers out of me, Arthur! I thought you were dead!” Kill had already killed repairman Bobby under the Cordova sedan while Ken had his head turned. Just that quickly, thanks to his new, improved powers of death found in the basement. Now he had his aim on the owner. After getting the ’57 Chevrolet up to snuff.

“I need a car,” he hounded. “I need a car now.” He kept staring at the one on the lift, the vehicle that would transport him back to the past, he knew (basement knowledge again).

Ken saw blood oozing from Bobby’s stiff body, realized what had happened. “Sure, sure, Arthur,” he said shakily. “W-when do you need it?” Ken knew he probably couldn’t escape the situation alive but wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible. “I mean — look at it.” He pointed to the beat up, rusted Chevy while keeping his eye on Kill.

“How long?” Kill issued.

“I… I don’t know.” Ken dared to wipe some sweat from his forehead. “Weeks?” he stated weakly.

“How about tomorrow. *No*, how about 11 o’clock tonight. Red paint. New tires, the *only* thing I want new. Oil change — yes, new oil as well. Two new things, then. And gas — fill her up. New as well. 3 new things. And…”

“I—.” Ken started to explain that he couldn’t possibly do all these things in the requested time then changed his mind as Kill pointed a gun at his head, the same one he took to the grave. Repaired as well, like his body if not his soul. “I’ll… try,” he modified.

“You’ll *do*,” commanded Arthur back. Say it with me, Kenny. “You’ll *do*.”

“I’ll… do.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0409, Cable Isle, HANA LEI

00330409

She’d lost her hat. She’d lost her ability to speak. The White Whale looks down on her, concerned that things had taken a turn for the dark again. Blue must be involved. Blue’s always involved when there’s trouble, she thinks. She opens her mouth. Nothing. Starbuccaneer Barista also opens her mouth and also produces nada.

“Newton and Jasper!” she wanted to cuss so badly.

Observing Newt then heard a tiny tittering beside him on the floor. About as small as ants they were, he thinks. Salt and Pepper.

He becomes them.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0409, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula

00320409

Just past the gate the fog increases. Man About Time can’t find the front door of the library — blocked in the direction he thinks it should be. He’ll have to find another, more indirect way inside. No flying on this parcel, or at least he pretends flying is verboten. Oh well. This way he’ll get to know more about the castle, he rationalizes. Right off the bat, it appears we’re working with lemony ways to get from one point to another here, much like with the Blue Feather and a couple of other Collagesity structures. But especially the Blue Feather — maybe they’re related in other ways. We’ll know soon enough.

He steps through the first door encountered in the opposite direction and ascends some stairs. This could take a while. And it did, since he hung a left instead of a right at the top.

He’s starting to think the idea of banning flight in a pretend way was a bad one.

A larger outer tower encountered. He decides not to investigate potentially upper floors and just circles around an enclosed inner wall to find an exit to this porch. He crosses a wooden board.

Interesting. Perhaps a dead end here too, he ponders while rounding another corner.


But then: a teleporter.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0409, Collagesity Fordham-, Lower Austra, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula

Beauty rests

She was still sleeping when the sun rose…

… the book of dreams opened up behind her.

What would it have in store for the great Horned being today?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0409, HANA LEI

red to blue

“Interesting tatoos.”

“Thanks.”

“So, are you going to join this Umbrella group, or not?”

“Don’t know. Depends on how the shrimp goes.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Food is my guide.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“So, where’re you from?”

“Place called Spoiled Rotten.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. Got 4 daddies. And one biological one too although I usually don’t count him. 3 daddies, then. No: 4. Forgot about Fred.”

“You sound like quite the catch (!). Is it the tattoos? Should I get some? Who would you recommend? *What* would you recommend?”

“Tattoos?” She was only half listening to that last paragraph, instead thinking about Fred and how she needs to call him.

“Yeah.”

She readjusted her colorful legs, a story on each one. She spoke in general. “You have to appease your daddies so stuff like ‘I’m yours,’ or ‘Daddy’s baby’.”

“Lemme guess,” the untattooed one said back. “Even though *you’re* in control.” Observing from her position, she was thinking: 3 9’s make a 6.

“Yeah baby.” Both giggle.

“How about you?”

“Oh, a nowhere place. Vanilla mom and dad. An uncle who was a prevert. That’s why they sent me away.”

“To this camp, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…?” Same for her? she was pondering. Could she have found, a friend?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0409, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, Wild West